A slave approached me as I sat in the Agora, trying to wash down with olives and real wine the taste of the vile concoction I had swallowed.
“Are you Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus?”
I looked up at him. “Probably. What do you want?”
“I come from Callias, son of Hipponicus. He desires to meet with you.”
I didn’t bother to ask what about, the man was only a slave. Instead I rose immediately. It wasn’t yet the end of the month, not time to ruin Sophroniscus for debt, so what could Callias want with me now?
I was led to his city house. Much of the lower floor was made of stone, an extravagance since every other home I’d been in was wooden or mud brick throughout, but at least it meant he was safer from fire. The house plan was expansive. The courtyard was a perfect square-someone must have measured it off-surrounded by carved wooden columns and a covered walkway. I looked up and turned around. The upper story of the house was made of wood, painted in rich blues except where murals showed the cavorting of the centaurs, Theseus defeating the Minotaur, and other scenes of our past. I noticed most of the slaves were young and beautiful and went about their work serenely.
I had never been particularly ambitious for wealth. Political importance was my dream. Now I quickly revised my estimate of the value of money. If I ever became the richest man in Athens, this was the sort of home I wanted to own.
Callias sat in the courtyard conducting business. At least, he was being read to by one slave while another wrote to his dictation. What the slave was reading and what Callias was dictating seemed to be unrelated. It was a remarkable performance, and I wondered if it had been put on for my benefit or whether Callias normally worked like that.
It was over soon enough and Callias turned his attention to me. He looked me square in the eye and said, “Thank you for coming, Nicolaos. I have been speaking to Pericles.”
If he expected a reaction, all he got was, “What about?”
Callias frowned. “You probably don’t think too well of me, young man, and I wouldn’t blame you for that. But I understand you are stepping into the world of politics, so let’s see if you can manage the first rule of the diplomat: separating your personal feelings from business.”
I felt chastened, precisely as he intended. He himself had been an ambassador for Athens on more than one occasion, and I knew he had just given me professional advice.
I said, “I apologize. It’s obvious you know I’m investigating the death of Ephialtes. I hope to prosecute the murderer regardless of who he is, so I like to think this is not a matter of politics.”
To my surprise I saw him smile. “Ah, I thought as much. I am speaking to an honest man. Perhaps there is a touch of idealism too, so appropriate to the young, and of course a trifle brash. I too, young man, have tried during my time to cleave to the path that leads to the greatest good for our city. I caution you it is not an easy path to tread. One finds there are necessary detours.”
“Thank you for the advice. That is quite close to something my father said.”
“Your father is a wise man, for all that we have our issue at the moment.”
“You’re not really going to bankrupt him, are you?”
“That remains to be seen, young man. You will have noticed even your father didn’t dispute the fairness of his liability. If the culprit isn’t brought to light, I suspect he’ll bankrupt himself without any pressure from me.”
I decided to avoid that delicate subject, as a good diplomat should, and said nothing.
Callias continued, “You may not be aware my dear wife Elpinice is sister to Cimon. Ah yes, I see that’s a name you know. Cimon was ostracized last year and has been residing in the north ever since. Word of the tragic death of Ephialtes has only now reached him, and he sent to me straightaway to act on his behalf. Cimon seeks to reassure anyone looking into the matter that he had nothing to do with it.”
Callias sat back, and I could see him relax as he placed his fingertips together and said, “I went to see Pericles and he, much to my surprise, suggested I talk to you. I did not realize, when you were here with Sophroniscus, that you were involved in politics, and a supporter of Pericles. This changes things.”
For the better, he meant to say, and I felt a surge of hope. Was my association with Pericles going to save my father?
“Do you believe Cimon?” I asked Callias.
“I am a supporter of Ephialtes and the democracy; if I thought Cimon had a hand in his death, I would prosecute him, family or no.”
I nodded. Callias didn’t know it, but his innocent comment that Cimon went north, and not east toward Ephesus and Magnesia, virtually eliminated Cimon as a suspect.
“What do you need to complete your work, Nicolaos?”
If Callias had made his offer earlier, I might have asked him for men to search the inns for Aristodicus, but that problem was solved.
“What I need more than anything else is information. And I need to find the people who know the things I want. I don’t think it’s anything you can help me with, Callias.”
“Is there anything more I can tell you?”
I decided it was worth trying. “You can tell me what this is.” I handed over the broken token.
Callias took it from me and said instantly, “It’s a banking token. Or rather, it’s half a banking token.”
I was suddenly excited. “What’s a banking token?”
“There are men in the Agora who will exchange coins of different currencies, that is, minted in different cities. You know that, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Sophroniscus sometimes has to go to them when he’s paid in foreign coins. He calls the changers thieves.”
Callias laughed. “He may not be so wrong. However, they only take money from men who want to deal with them, Nicolaos, and that makes them legal. Now, these men do more than change coins. They also keep your money for you, which can be useful if you have a lot, or they can lend you money at a rate of interest, or they can transfer your money to another city, so that you can travel there and collect it without the risk of having to transport your own gold.”
“How do they manage that, to move the money?”
“Ah, good question. They do it by not moving any money at all.”
“Eh? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Oh, but it does! Let’s say you have a lot of money and you want to send it to somewhere, let’s say-”
“Syracuse.”
“Fine choice. You want to send your money to Syracuse, where you will use it to buy a country estate. You take your thousands of drachmae to a banker in Athens. He puts it into his strongbox. In return he writes you a letter, saying that he has taken receipt of your funds and that you will collect an equivalent amount of Syracusan coins when you arrive in that city at an agreed exchange rate. You take your letter and a banking token, and leave. The banker immediately writes to a friend of his in Syracuse, another banker. He tells the Syracusan banker to expect you, and assures the man that your funds are on deposit. When you arrive, you see this Syracusan banker, and he gives you the agreed sum. You have now transferred a large sum of money across the world at no risk to yourself. I use this service myself for my own business dealings.”
“That’s clever.” I was genuinely impressed. “But isn’t the Syracusan out of pocket, and the Athenian has made money he hasn’t earned?”
“Just so. However, it won’t be long before a rich Syracusan wants to send money from Syracuse to Athens. Then the obligation goes the other way. These things tend to even out over time, and you can be sure the bankers keep a very careful count of who owes whom, and how much.”
“But wait! The Syracusan has never seen me before. How does he know I’m not an impostor?”
“Pull out your token. Look at it.”
I did as he bid.
“There’s a pattern on the token. Each banker uses his own pattern and varies it a bit too, so these tokens are unique. The Athenian has told the Syracusan what pattern to expect on the token. The only way to impersonate you is to steal that token.”
“I see.” I hadn’t found any letter among Aristodicus’ effects. “Then tell me, why is this one cut in half?”
“It does rather look that way, doesn’t it? I can only suggest that two men who don’t trust each other have deposited a sum together, and they’ve split the token between them. The banker would only release the funds if both pieces were presented.”
“That’s interesting. Would you believe that none of Pericles, Archestratus, nor Xanthippus recognized this board for what it was?”
“In the case of Xanthippus and Pericles that is wholly believable. Both are traditional men-yes, Pericles too! — and they have nothing to do with trade. In the case of Archestratus, I find that very difficult to believe, considering this token belongs to the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company.”
My jaw dropped. “You are not joking? You mean that?”
“Certainly I do. I recognize the pattern.”
“ Archestratus owns a bank?”
“Not your Archestratus; his son, whom he named after himself instead of taking the name of the grandfather.” It is traditional in Athens for a man to name his first born son after his own father. A second son would often be named for the maternal grandfather. Consequently names tended to repeat with alternate generations. But the rule was not universal, and some families used the same name every time.
I was stunned by the implications, but some part of me was still thinking because I asked without conscious thought, “By any chance do you know a metic called Telemenes, who runs an import-export business?”
“Why, yes, of course. Telemenes is well known in business circles.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know his bankers, would you?”
“As it happens, I do.”
“It’s the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company, isn’t it?” I guessed.
“Yes. But what does Telemenes have to do with this? Is it important?”
The bankers in the Agora are called trapezai because of their oddly shaped tables, which are themselves covered in trapezoids and other irregular shapes. I watched bemused as a seated banker ran knotted string here and there about the top of his table. His practiced fingers moved swiftly, measuring the string against the sides of some shapes. It took me a moment to realize he was calculating money, and that the length of the string, measured by the number of knots, told him how much. He came to some conclusion, nodded, and counted coins to the man standing before him. The client departed, and the banker made marks in a scroll.
It never occurred to me for a moment that the firm of Antisthenes and Archestratus would be anything but obstructive, so I picked my moment, waiting for the one who looked most like Archestratus senior to leave.
“I want to make a withdrawal,” I said to the man behind the table. He was dark-haired and young but rather weedy looking. I suppose sitting at a desk all day is bad for you. In fact, I had seen to my surprise that both Antisthenes and Archestratus were young men. Banking is a new idea so I suppose anyone practicing it is likely to be young too. I held up the token.
He glanced at it and said immediately, “You need the other half or I can’t help you.”
“Can you tell me who has it?”
“If you don’t know that, then I definitely can’t help you. Who are you, anyway?”
His question told me instantly the banker who’d dealt with Aristodicus was Archestratus, son of Archestratus. “I’m Aristodicus of Tanagra. Where’s your partner? It was him I was dealing with.”
“He’s had to leave unexpectedly. I am Antisthenes.”
“Archestratus mentioned you.”
Antisthenes opened a scroll and ran his finger along a column. He murmured, “Aristodicus…Aristodicus…ah, Aristodicus of Tanagra, yes, here you are.” He peered at the numbers and words written alongside.
“Archestratus noted we are holding funds for you in escrow pursuant to completion of a contract.”
“The contract’s done. I want my money.”
“I am delighted for you. I look forward to seeing you and your other party together with both halves of the token.”
“What if my friend gives me his half and I come on my own?”
“I give you the money. We don’t care much about people in the banking business. Coins, letters of credit, and account tokens are what get us excited. Oh, and if you want to take money out you’ll need to prove you’re who you say you are.” He looked at me closely. “You are Aristodicus of Tanagra, aren’t you?”
“Trust me.”
“Trust is not a major element of banking. Bring a witness willing to swear to you, particularly since you asked me the name of your other party. That sort of question makes a banker suspicious.”
I departed, angry with myself for handling the interview so badly. I should have realized he wasn’t going to tell me the name of the other party. I had wanted the name so desperately I’d forsaken all caution. I groaned in frustration. The name written in that scroll was the man behind the killer, unless of course, the bastard had used a false name.
I pushed my way through the Agora, lost in thought. I stumbled into someone.
“Hey!”
“Oh!” The man I’d stumbled against was Sophroniscus’ friend Lysimachus. “I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t looking.”
“You certainly weren’t, young Nicolaos. I saw you looking black as thunder with your head down and thought I’d come over to see if you’re all right.”
“That’s kind of you. I’m having a little trouble, but it’s something I need to sort out for myself.”
“Your investigation?” he sympathized. “I won’t ask how it goes, your expression tells me everything. Come sit down.” He ordered the slave carrying his coins to bring us wine. The slave walked to the nearest stall, took a few coins from his mouth, and bought two cups while Lysimachus led me to a seat in the shade of the Monument to the Ten Heroes.
As we sat sipping he asked, “How is Sophroniscus?”
“Father’s well in his body, but very disturbed in his mind. We had a disaster while delivering a statue.” I related the story to Lysimachus, who shook his head in dismay as I talked, finishing with, “He spends his days selling everything not essential, to raise the money to repay Callias, but I don’t know if it will be enough.”
Lysimachus frowned. “Thank you for telling me this, Nicolaos. I will go see Sophroniscus at once. I am cross with him for not coming to me. I’m sure I can lend him what’s required.”
“You can? If you did, I would be eternally grateful, Lysimachus, it would be a huge weight off his mind-and mine too! — but I don’t know if he’ll accept your money.”
“I will be persuasive.”
“Well, I hope I can make the whole problem irrelevant, and your generous offer unnecessary. It’s up to me to name the man who sabotaged us.”
“Your father worries about you, out on the streets like this.”
“I know. He thinks I should be a sculptor like him. I haven’t thanked you, Lysimachus, for supporting me that evening.”
He dismissed my thanks with the wave of a hand.
“In his younger days, your father was something of a rebel too.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Sophroniscus is the most solidly middle class of men.
“It’s true. You’ll recall he spoke of annoying his father by threatening to become an actor.”
“I thought he made that up.”
“No, he was speaking the truth. And I’m sure there are some things he’s never mentioned to me. Now, tell me what was upsetting you so much when you ran into me.”
I explained, finishing with, “It’s the frustration. Every time I think I’ve cleared the last obstacle something else gets in the way. I don’t know how many times I’ve said to myself this is the last problem to solve.”
“I see. Was Callias able to help? Do keep in mind, young Nicolaos, there are men in Athens with considerable resources who want to see the city come out of this in one piece. Callias is such a man.”
“That’s all very well, but how can Callias help me with a ba-” I put down my cup. “Thank you for the wine, Lysimachus. I have to get back to work.”
I hurried back to the home of Callias and beat on the door. The doorkeeper wouldn’t let me in until Callias himself heard the disturbance and came to see what it was about.
“You asked me how you could help, Callias, and I find you have been a greater assistance than I could have imagined. There is one more thing I ask.”
“Name it.”
“As much money as two men can carry.”
He blinked. “I suppose you are going to explain that?”
I explained my problem, and what I proposed to do about it. When I finished he was laughing. Callias clapped his hands for slaves and issued orders.
I found him not in his workshop, but in his private room. Sophroniscus sat sweating over a scroll, squinting at the tiny figures covering it.
“Ah, Nicolaos, I’ve been looking through the finances, and I think, if we sell down most of the assets and move to a smaller house, we might just be able to manage it. Of course it’s going to be tough, and we’ll have to-”
“Father?”
“Yes Nicolaos?”
“How would you like to relive the rebellious days of your youth?”
I explained what was needed.
“Have you told your mother about this?”
“No sir.”
“Good. Don’t.” He smiled. “You know I don’t approve of this job of yours, son, but I say if you’re going to commit yourself to something, then be excellent at it, and besides which, if by some miracle you find this man then it might relieve me of this crushing debt.” He wiped his forehead. “Well, if Callias agreed to your plan, it can’t be as harebrained as it sounds. I’ll help you.”
“Thank you,” I said. I felt closer to my father than I ever had before.
“And you’re right, son. It does take me back to my youth. Ah, those were the days. I envy you, lad.”
I smiled. Only two more crew members to recruit.
“When do we start, Nico?” Socrates asked loudly.
“Shhh! Shut up, you idiot, or people will hear you. Do you want to rob a bank, or don’t you?” That convinced him. Socrates trailed along beside me without saying a word, a condition entirely unlike him. I picked a spot in the Agora where I would have a good view, then sent Socrates to his starting position, and raised my arm as the signal to begin.
Sophroniscus ambled up to the trading desk of the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company. He was covered in marble dust. Walking meekly behind him were two slaves carrying bags of money. The slaves belonged to Callias and they were actually trained bodyguards. He might be willing to lend me a fortune, but he wasn’t an idiot.
The jangling of those money bags received the full and instant attention of Archestratus and Antisthenes. There was no doubting what they contained.
“Can we help you?” they asked as one.
Sophroniscus said, “Hello. I, uh, I have some money.”
“So I see,” Antisthenes said smoothly. “Could we offer to take care of that for you?”
“Uh, I’ve received an inheritance from my dear old uncle. I used to be a poor man-we artists generally are, you know-I don’t know much about money…”
“That’s all right, we do,” Antisthenes reassured him.
“Oh, good!” Father didn’t have to act his part. He was genuinely and sincerely ignorant on any subject that didn’t involve sculpting. Fortunately what he had to do was simple. “Can I give it to you now?”
“Certainly.”
They began to count it out under the casual but observant eyes of the slaves, who knew to the drachma what the total should be. Antisthenes and Archestratus themselves had two guards standing behind them. These men appeared to be mercenaries too old for field service, but scary enough to keep away any but a determined attacker. The sudden appearance of so many coins caught their attention too. They went from sleepy to watchful, their eyes searching the crowds for any threat.
When the count was finished, Sophroniscus was handed a token. “I have to insist you take the money to your vault at once.”
Archestratus and Antisthenes looked at each other. It was a reasonable demand, more than reasonable. Common sense would be telling them to get this large deposit to safety immediately. They already had enough coins on the table to handle daily business, the day had barely begun, and they hadn’t any profit on the table to protect.
Archestratus said, “You take the bags, I’ll be fine here on my own.”
So Antisthenes stood and ordered their own guards to pick up the bags. They did so and followed their master out of the Agora to a vault, the location of which I had little doubt would be a closely held secret. That was fine with me: it wasn’t their money I wanted to steal.
Father signaled his two slaves and walked off in the opposite direction, mopping his brow as he walked. I turned on my heel and walked briskly to the nearby corner of the Agora, where I nodded to a woman admiring herself in a bronze mirror.
Euterpe put down the mirror and swayed deliciously in the direction of the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company. At least a dozen nearby male eyes helped her on her way.
“Oh!” she gasped. She suddenly leaned forward and grabbed a nearby table for support. Her position meant that her cleavage was directed straight at Archestratus, not more than an arm’s length distance. He seemed to have some trouble raising his eyes to ask, “What’s wrong? Can I help you?”
“I think I’ve twisted my ankle. Oh, the pain! I think I’m going to faint…” She put a hand to her head and began to sway. The table rocked and the coins threatened to roll.
“Don’t!” Archestratus was around the table in a trice with his arm around Euterpe, who slumped gently against him, tits first. He helped her walk slowly to a nearby bench, perfectly willing to extend the time.
I waved my arm as if to a distant friend. Socrates saw my signal and walked behind Archestratus. He picked up the record scroll as he passed the desk, leaving in its place another that looked at least vaguely like the original. He stepped briskly around the corner to a disused stall where Diotima waited with papyrus and ink pot. There was only one entry that interested us. I prayed to her Goddess that she would be quick.
She was. Socrates was back before I could repeat my prayer to Artemis three times. He paused at the corner waiting for my signal. I waved again and Euterpe, who was reassuring Archestratus that she was feeling much better, asked him to check her ankle to make sure it wasn’t broken. I imagined he was only too happy to oblige, he certainly bent to his task quickly enough, and spent plenty of time about it, no doubt to make sure the lady would be able to walk safely.
Socrates replaced the scroll.
Containing my excitement, I walked as quickly as I could without running to the home of Euterpe. She arrived last. Diotima and Socrates were already there. Sophroniscus had gone straight home.
As soon as she saw me, Diotima shouted, “It’s Archestratus! Archestratus!”
“The father, not the son?” I asked.
“Archestratus, son of Antimachus, together with Aristodicus of Tanagra, jointly deposited two talents into the bank, the transaction handled by Archestratus, son of Archestratus.” Two talents came to twelve thousand drachmae, a very considerable sum. For that amount I could have the house and income promised me by Pericles. You could buy more than a hundred slaves with that sort of money.
Diotima continued, “The token was broken-I gather that isn’t unusual-half to be held by Aristodicus, and the other half by Archestratus the Elder. With Aristodicus dead, Archestratus must be thinking he’s got away with keeping his money. And listen, Aristodicus left instructions that once released to him, the money was to be transferred to a bank in Syracuse.”
“That gels with his sailing ticket from Telemenes,” I mused. “They all link together, don’t they? Themistocles sits in Magnesia, close to Ephesus. Rizon travels between here and there, transported by Telemenes, whose bank is the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company. The Archestratus of the firm just happens to be the son of the politician Archestratus, who covets Ephialtes’ position, and is the man to whom Rizon carries messages from Themistocles. The assassin arrives from Ephesus, carried on the same ship that returns Rizon. He is paid via the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company with money from Archestratus Senior.”
“Sounds like a conviction to me.” Diotima smiled.
“Pericles will be furious when he learns the Areopagus didn’t do it,” I said in happy anticipation.
“But what about my house?” Euterpe demanded.
Diotima said patiently, “Mother, if Rizon is executed they can’t make me marry him, can they?”
“Oh!” Euterpe smiled. Then she had second thoughts, “But what if he isn’t convicted?”
“That could happen,” I put in. “We have ample evidence to prove the guilt of Archestratus, but there’s nothing to say Rizon was aware of the plot. He could claim he was a simple courier of political deals.”
“But they traveled on the same boat!” Diotima said.
“Coincidence, that’s what he’ll say. Yes, I know he’s up to his teeth in it, but nothing’s been proven.”
“Then Mother and I still have a problem. But I’ve taken steps to deal with that.”
The way she said it made me uneasy. “Diotima, you haven’t-”
“Yes, I have,” she interrupted. “You can leave that to me. It isn’t your problem.” I opened my mouth to reply but thought better of it. There was nothing to be gained having an argument about it.
Euterpe drifted off to bathe “after her ordeal.” Socrates was forcibly removed from the house and told to go home.
As soon as we were alone, I said, “Diotima, blackmail is a dangerous game.”
“But not one that has anything to do with you, Nicolaos. This is my problem to solve. Mother is relying on me. I’m relying on myself too, for that matter. I don’t want to be married to that man.”
“Well, who do you want to be married to?” I hadn’t meant to ask, the question slipped out while I wasn’t watching.
Diotima didn’t answer.
I hurried on. “Listen, Diotima, we talked before about you needing money to get away, to live on your own at Ephesus.”
She thought about that, and added, “And you have to prove to your father you can make a living as a political agent.”
“That money is sitting in the bank, and Aristodicus is never going to collect it.”
“I’m starting to see what you mean. Besides, it’s not as if I don’t deserve it for the loss of my father,” Diotima rationalized.
I said, “Archestratus has the token. If we can take it from him when we arrest him, that would be perfect. I’d be willing to bet Antisthenes isn’t aware of what his business partner’s been doing on the side. He thinks I’m Aristodicus. He would give me the money if I presented him with both halves of the token.”
Diotima frowned. “He probably has it in his house. We’d never get it if it’s there. We can arrest Archestratus but whoever heard of being allowed to search someone’s home? It’s unthinkable.”
“I wonder if we could trick him into bringing it out?”
But try as we might, we could think of no way to finesse the token. We gave the idea up as a pleasant fantasy, but unworkable.
“I have to get the evidence to Pericles immediately,” I said. “I expect we’ll be ready to charge Archestratus first thing tomorrow morning.”
Diotima walked with me to the Agora. It was on her way to the temple. We were relaxed for the first time since we’d met, and we idled along.
Pythax and a troop of Scythians approached us, coming the other way, with the Eponymous Archon in their midst. They stopped before us. Pythax seemed glum and refused to look at me.
“Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus, you are under arrest,” the Archon said.
“What am I charged with?” I demanded.
“Let’s see now,” said the Archon. He pulled out a parchment that he held close to his eyes, then far away. He squinted at it and pretended to read it, the bastard. I don’t know if Conon had bad eyesight, but I was quite sure he knew exactly what it said. “It says here the murder of Brasidas the bowyer.” I wasn’t surprised; I’d been expecting that, though I’d put it out of my mind. “Destruction of state property-”
“What state property?” I demanded.
“The two slaves. You killed them.”
“I never went near them!”
“And…oh yes, the murder of Ephialtes.”
That left me openmouthed, shocked. I turned to Pythax.
“But you know I didn’t do that, Pythax. Brasidas sold the bow to Aristodicus of Tanagra.”
Pythax said sadly, “And who’s the only one who heard Brasidas say that? You. So why should anyone believe you, considering you slit the man’s throat the next day? Here’s how Conon reckons it works, little boy. You killed Ephialtes, you killed the slaves because they saw you. You killed Brasidas who sold you the bow, and invented this story of the Tanagran to shift suspicion away from the obvious suspect. Then you searched around for the first man you could find from Tanagra and fought him to death to make it look like you’d killed the murderer in a fair fight. Conon noticed you claimed not to get the Tanagran’s name from Brasidas. That’s because you hadn’t picked your victim yet. Anything to say?”
“I didn’t kill Aristodicus, you did.”
“You were trying mighty hard when I happened along. You duped me into doing your work for you.”
“I didn’t have a bow when Ephialtes was murdered.”
“You looked for a bow Pericles might have thrown away. Pericles never looked to see if you’d hidden one.”
When he put it like that, the whole thing was simple, obvious, and ingenious. Maybe I did kill them all.
Conon said, “I would stand away from that man, if I were you, Priestess. He murdered your father.”
“Goat shit,” said the Priestess, and added bitterly, “I suppose you’re going to arrest him for Stratonike too.”
Conon turned to her. “No, Nicolaos didn’t kill Stratonike. You did.”
“Really? Are you going to arrest me?”
“No need. Yours is a straightforward domestic murder. It happens all the time. Your husband can deal with you. But this man you’re with is a serial killer. He’s a danger to the state. Take him away, Pythax.”
Diotima stopped him. “Wait! You can’t take him to jail, Athens doesn’t have one.”
She was right. An accused man stays free until the moment he’s convicted, and if he runs, that’s an admission of guilt and he’s condemned to death in absentia. My first thought the moment Conon accused me was that I’d be taking up Telemene’s offer of that fast boat to Syracuse.
But Conon destroyed that plan when he said, “No jail for those charged, perhaps, but we do have a cell for condemned prisoners awaiting execution.”
“Oh, so has Nicolaos been condemned without trial?”
“Not at all, but he is a serial killer. There’s no telling who he’ll slaughter next. As Archon, I judge the state is unsafe while he is walking the streets. Therefore he will be guarded until he can be brought to trial. Priestess, I wish to speak with you in my offices. Guards, take the man away.”